


Friends to This Ground

by thinenotthee



Category: Hamlet - All Media Types, Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Character Study, Horatio-Centric, M/M, also me: writes 700-word hamlet fic, major character death because it's hamlet, me: people should write more longform hamlet fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinenotthee/pseuds/thinenotthee
Summary: Horatio, in brief.
Relationships: Hamlet/Horatio (Hamlet)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Friends to This Ground

_There is providence in the fall of a sparrow. The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes._

Horatio had not thought much of these words the first time Hamlet had said them. More philosophical speculation that his lord was prone to at such hours of night after being filled with drink. Drinking always brought about a certain melancholy in his prince, and he had often tried to deter him from doing so at such late hours, but in truth, Hamlet was always somewhat melancholy, and the prince told him as such.

“The heavens seem quiet tonight, my lord,” Horatio said in response, condensing his fear and disgust and shame at the thought of Hamlet dying into a few words.

“They do,” he replied, not looking at Horatio. If Horatio was not mistaken, there was a wistfulness in his tone that scared him.

\--

_A prattling fool._

Horatio fought back his cutting remarks as he lugged Polonius’ body through the castle. Hamlet had well and truly snapped, and he did not think his words would have much effect on him now.

“A bumbling fool. Hiding behind my mother’s arras. Everyone in this castle knows I am out for revenge, except this fishmonger, it seems. Serves him right.”

Horatio bit his tongue until he tasted blood, a fine metaphor for his life since coming to Elsinore. He did everything in his power to protect his prince, but before now he never realized that there were people that needed protecting from Hamlet as well.

They hid the body in a corridor next to the stairs, tucked into a corner between the two.

“Let him be eaten by his aspirations. And the maggots as well. The fishmonger will be consumed by his own bait.”

Horatio said nothing, but turned back to his own chambers to remove his blood-covered clothing.

\--

_Follow her, Horatio._

Ophelia was alone. Her brother gone, her love banished to England, and her father dead. No one in the court seemed to care much what became of her. She spent many nights running through the halls at night, and Horatio’s restlessness that had befallen him since Hamlet was sent to England allowed him to hear the slap of bare feet against the marble outside his room. He took it upon himself to keep watch of the lady Ophelia on these nights. It wasn’t like he had much else to do while he waited—hoped— for his prince to return.

He only wished his feet could have taken him to the edge of the brook as fast as Ophelia’s had run through the halls of Elsinore.

\--

_He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet._

Despite himself, despite _everything_ , Horatio had to suppress a grin at his lord’s cheekiness. Writing such intimate words on letters that Horatio knew that Hamlet knew were far from discreet. Hamlet, like always, was asking for trouble. And like always, he didn’t care. Seeing the words scrawled in Hamlet’s messy script lit a warmth in Horatio’s chest that had been missing for weeks. _“Repair thou to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death.”_

You, too, Hamlet. You, too.

\--

_Why, what a king is this!_

Horatio clenched his jaw after his outburst. Hamlet, in true fashion, did not notice and plowed on with his tirade. Sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to their deaths. Sure, they were definitely under Claudius’ thumb and lied through their teeth, but that did not warrant death. Horatio remembered that night a month ago, remembered Hamlet’s hushed rant as they lugged the body, steadily growing colder, through the halls of Elsinore. Horatio could feel his breath coming in short gusts, and he tried to force his heart to slow down. For not the first time, Horatio thought his lord to be as much of a threat to others as everyone else was to him. It did not soothe him.

Osric’s entrance led back to their easy banter, but Horatio could not ignore the cry of _wrongwrongwrong_ that sang in his blood. It only grew as Osric explained the wager and Horatio wanted to scream for all the times that he kept his mouth shut. _WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!_ his instinct shouted, but there was nothing he could do. There was Hamlet’s line about sparrows and heaven and he could only think that like Caesar, his prince had missed his warnings.

\--

_Goodnight, sweet prince._

The heavens were too loud for Horatio now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my excuse to explore some of my headcanons for Horatio. And by headcanons, I mean specific things that likely happened to him, not any new information about him, lmao.
> 
> Come yell at me about Hamlet on my tumblr (same username as here)


End file.
